A Hero for Middle Earth
by TheDragon12
Summary: Middle Earth is in trouble, big trouble. Sauron has arisen, and he's raised a huge army to conquer all of Middle Earth. There is no chance of victory for the free peoples of Middle Earth, so Olympus sends help. Middle Earth will never be the same.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay guys this is my first fanfic, so while it may not be amazing, it will get better over time. Thanks for reading this, and I would really appreciate it if you leave a review on this, tell me what to write/ do, etc. If you guys don't understand the first part, don't worry, it'll make more sense at the end. So, enough with this, have a good day, and read on!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing- neither PJO or LOTR**

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Prologue

High above Aman atop Mount Taniquetil, Manwë Súlimo, lord of the air and skies, looked out over the world. He was cloaked in blue robes, and he wielded his sapphire scepter. By his side was his wife Varda, queen of the heavens. With her by his side, he could look out to the furthest reaches of the world and hear every sound. Manwë stopped and looked at his scepter, crafted for him by the Noldor.

Ah… the Noldor. The most ingenious of the elves ever to walk upon the Earth. Friends of Aulë they were, and from him they learned their craft. Everything was bliss in Aman in that time, Manwë remembered, until Feanor crafted the silmarils.

Feanor was by far the greatest of the Eldar ever to live. His skills surpassed even Aulë's, and his work was rivaled by no one. Manwe was grieved, remembering the death of Finwë Feanor's father and the theft of the silmarils by Morgoth. Feanor took the Noldor on his foolhardy conquest to Middle Earth to reclaim the silmarils and have revenge on Morgoth, but he himself lost his life in the process. After 500 years of bloody fighting and thousands of noble elves killed, only one silmaril was reclaimed, and that was now housed in the sky with Earendil.

Countless lives lost… Some of the greatest ever to live died in that war. Feanor, Finrod, Hurin, Turin, Berin…. The grief was still too fresh. After the war, many of the Noldor came back to Aman, and for the Edain, the faithful men, Numenor was risen in the sea for them- the land of gift. Yet after Morgoth's capture and 'death', his servant Sauron sought to further his master's conquest. Sauron brought about the destruction of that great civilization of Numenor, and hundreds of thousands of the Edain were killed in the tumult. Now, Numenorean blood is rarely seen in Gondor and in the north, and a strain of the Edain blood in Rohan.

Then Sauron was defeated by Isildur and a great army of elves and men- the Last Alliance, and Manwë hoped that would lead to peace, but he was wrong again. Isildur failed to destroy the Ring, and Sauron was never destroyed. His servant Angmar waged a war in the north, and the last of Numenorean blood was all but destroyed, and the line of kings: ended for a long while.

And thus the grieves of Morgoth came to fruition, and since the beginning of days, there has been no peace in the world, and there shall be none until after the Great War to end all days.

Sauron had arisen again, this much Manwë knew. He had arisen 60 years ago and raised an army in the south of Greenwood. Sauron, however, was dispelled by the White Council- wise Elrond, fair Galadriel, Curunir- also known as Saruman to the men of Middle Earth, and his own Maiar: Olorin, known also as Gandalf. Manwë realized that Sauron was not destroyed by the White Council; he was only hindered. Sauron would rise again, and when he did, he would return to Mordor.

At this thought, Manwë once again turned his gaze to Mordor; he had been inspecting it much of late. He saw the same sight he had seen whenever he searched there- a shadow on the ash-covered, rocky plain of Mordor, nothing else. Something seemed different though, this was not ordinary. In a moment of awestruck realization, Manwë remembered that Sauron was a unfathomably skilled sorcerer. He now perceived that all this was an illusion; a dark shroud created by Sauron to hinder all unwelcome eyes.

Manwë mustered his power and tried to pierce the shroud, but Sauron had been well trained by Morgoth in the dark arts. The magic that went into creating the shadow had been layered on over many centuries; Manwë could not pierce this shroud of darkness on his own.

Breaking out of his trance, he took Varda by the hand. "My love, something stirs in Mordor. Something evil stirs, and this will not bode well for the people of Middle Earth."

"My husband, what stirs in Mordor?"

"That is what I need your help with Varda, Sauron hath shrouded my vision, and that shadow I cannot pierce. Join with me; lend me your power, and I will pierce that shadow. Morgoth feared you above all of the Valar; Sauron will be the same."

Then Varda joined with Manwë, and being filled with power, Manwë turned his gaze to the shadow, wrestled with the dark magic, subdued it, and utterly vanquished the shadow- breaking the dark magic that had been resilient for centuries.

And in Mordor, in Barad Dur, a dark figure was cast across the chamber, so much of his power leaving him in an instant, and he knew his plans were no longer secret.

Manwë uttered a cry at what he saw. He saw a vast army, hundreds of thousands strong, preparing for war. He saw armor and weapons being forged, and he saw soldiers being trained. Manwë beheld all the orcs, and was filled with rage. The orc was first created when Morgoth, ever seeking to defile what is good, captured the Eldar, the purest, most noble creature to be created by Eru, and turned them into the vile abomination of an orc. This deed alone was the one held most vile by Eru Iluvatar, the creator. Worst of all that he saw, though, was Barad Dûr standing, and the Eye of Sauron inspecting the rocky surface of Mordor.

So, Sauron was back in full power, and he wanted to claim all of Middle Earth. Manwë beheld all this and was grieved. He thought of the countless Millennia of toil and woe to create all that is good in this land. Sauron sought to defile all of that.

Manwë had only one option. Middle Earth needed help. They were greatly outnumbered, and Mordor was unassailable with what forces they had. Doing so would accomplish nothing, and Sauron had put forth part of his spirit into the One Ring. The only course of action would be to destroy the Ring. Manwë must send help. He wouldn't send an elf- this war needed to be won by men, not elves. He would send them a champion.

"Eonwë!" Manwë called to his herald, "Bring me Irmo! Quick!"

* * *

When Irmo, Valar of dreams and rest arrived at Taniquetil, he was quickly ushered to Manwë by Eonwë.

"Manwë, what hath happened in Endor? What is the cause of my summoning?" asked a perplexed Irmo.

"Sauron is risen; Middle Earth is in danger. We need to send help."

"My lord Manwë, of what assistance can I be? It would be better ask Tulkas or Oromë on matters like this."

"Irmo, we may not interfere in this; Eru has decreed it."

"Why not send one of the Noldor or Vanyar? Many would be honored to help the inhabitants of Middle Earth."

Manwë sighed. "We cannot send them; this is man's affair; it must be won b-" at this he was cut off as Irmo surged forward and grabbed his arm.

"Send Eärendil; none would withstand him, and Elrond his son is in Middle Earth. It would be a valiant stand." Irmo excitedly told Manwë.

Manwë sighed. "I wish it were that easy, but I fear not. This is man's battle, and it must be won by men. Sauron's Ring must be destroyed, and we need a champion to help with that. That's why I called for you Irmo."

A confused Irmo shakily replied, "What exactly doth thou ask of me, Lord?"

"Contact Olympus."

* * *

Meanwhile on Olympus, a storm was brewing. Zeus had called an emergency council, and every god was in attendance, even Hades and Hestia. Even Zeus did not know the reason for this council, he was told to call it by his son Apollo. As Zeus looked around the room at his family, he beheld all the minor discussions going on. None of them knew that the next few minutes would change many lives, but then again, he didn't know how they would change either. He was told all this by Apollo. He looked over at his wife Hera, and she gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder before he began. Zeus stood up, and thunder reverberated throughout the room. All discussions ceased, and all in attendance looked up expectantly at Zeus. "Apollo, continue," was all Zeus said before sitting down.

Apollo stood up from his throne and moved towards the center of the hall; he smiled at Hestia, but his expression was very serious, oddly. He didn't even have headphones in his ears, and his eyes were sad. "Late last night," he began, " I received a vision." He paused as if to contemplate what he was about to say.

"Come on Apollo, don't keep us waiting here all day; we have things to do," complained an impatient Ares.

"Let him speak," interrupted Poseidon who was beginning to grasp the seriousness of the council. He motioned for Apollo to continue.

Apollo nodded his thanks to Poseidon and cleared his throat. "It wasn't just a vision though; it was a message, a plea." At this point all the heads in the room were turned to him and listening to him intently. He continued, "It was a message from Irmo; Manwë calls for aid; Middle Earth is in danger."

A stunned silence filled the room; all were aware of the trouble that had before confronted the Valar, but never before had their counterparts called for aid, not even during the siege of Angband so long ago. It was a confused Hermes who chose to break the silence.

"What do you mean 'Manwë calls for aid'? Does he want us to help directly? Does he ask for an army? What does he ask of us?"

Apollo paused a moment before replying. "Manwë asked for a -," he faltered, "a- a champion. We need to send him a demigod champion. Then Apollo looked sadly at his uncle, Poseidon. "It's obvious who we need to send."

This caught Poseidon off guard, and it took him a moment for him to realize what was being said; his eyes widened when he came to that realization. "NO!" Poseidon thundered. "My son has been through enough! He's literally been to Tartarus and back! Send someone else, but my son will not go!" The room started shaking at the anger of Poseidon.

"Nah, I think it's a great idea to send that punk over," quipped Ares as he started sharpening his knife.

"Maybe we should send Ares over and get some peace and quiet around here for once," an angry Artemis shot back.

"You know what? I'm gonna-,"

"ENOUGH!" roared Zeus. "Poseidon, Middle Earth needs help; they need your son. Will you let him go?"

Poseidon was stopped from answering when Hestia quietly made her way up to Poseidon's throne and put her hand on Poseidon's shoulder.

"Poseidon, Middle Earth needs a hero. _Your son_ is that hero; he must go.

Poseidon's expression softened; she was right. "Alright," he said in a submissive tone, "my son shall go to Middle Earth; we'll send him directly to Manwë. And Apollo- you will tell my son all there is to know about what he's doing. He'll wake up tomorrow in Aman knowing the situation, understood?"

Poseidon said that with such authority that not only Apollo was nodding, but all the other gods and goddesses found themselves instinctively agreeing and nodding. Before he left, Poseidon turned around and said, "And, if anything happens to my son because of this, there will be consequences." And with that, the Sea God disappeared in a spurt of seawater that instantly evaporated.

Apollo seemed a bit nervous, not wanting to face these 'consequences.' He scratched the back of his neck and then seemed to revert back to his old self. He smiled cheerfully and said, "Well, that went better than expected. Now toodle oo! I have work to do."

And on that note, the council adjourned.

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**Hope you liked it! Please leave a review and I'll try to update as soon as possible.**

**~TheDragon12**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, thanks for all the support last chapter. I have a pretty crazy idea, want to hear it? Last chapter we had 1 review, let's go for 2 reviews this time, okay? Pretty radical, I know, but you can do it. :)**

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Percy awoke on a green hill under a blue sky. The land around him was exceedingly beautiful: the grass was emerald green, and the sky was a rich deep blue. He got up and began to stretch, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. "Well, that was a weird dream I had last night," remarked Percy, "well, weirder than usual at least- Whoa." At that point he looked around and was rendered speechless by the landscape around him, especially the mountains surrounding him that reached above the clouds. "So the dream _was_ real; the gods sent me to a different world. Well hey, one more thing to cross off the 'to-do' list I guess."

The previous night he had received a dream in which Apollo told him all about this land called Middle Earth. Apparently, they needed help, and he was supposed to help save the world or whatever, so, you know, just your average demigod quest. He checked his pocket and was met with the cool touch of his ballpoint pen. "So Riptide works in a different world, that's good." He was told he had to meet with the rulers of this land, and they would send him on his way. He looked behind him and saw a vast ocean, and ahead of him he saw a gap in the mountains with what looked to be a city in it. "I suppose that's a good place to start," and with that, he started walking.

* * *

After a long time of walking, he reached the city. It was much bigger than he thought, and far more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. No human could construct anything like this. "Well," Percy said aloud, "Annabeth would give it a go I bet; if anyone could make anything like this, it would be Annabeth." Oh Hades, Annabeth; how long was he going to be separated from her? Did she know about all this? Percy's mind was instantly flooded with questions. A pang of sadness entered into his heart when he thought of the upcoming months he wouldn't be able to talk to or see Annabeth. It would be a long time before he came back;_ if_ he came back. "Oh man, if I died, Annabeth would kill me. Oh, wait a moment..."

Percy turned his attention back to the sprawling city as he wandered through it. The buildings were all made of the same, beautiful white stone- all chiseled with such superb craftsmanship; was unbelievable. They spared no expense anywhere; the amount of riches the inhabitants had was clearly made known. Why, even the sand the roads were comprised of seemed to be ground-up diamonds. There were plants and fountains everywhere; clearly the people that built this loved nature dearly. The only problem was that Percy couldn't _find_ the people that built this place. It seemed to be deserted, yet everything was in such great condition.

He continued to wander the city: half - looking for people, half- admiring the work that went into this and the beauty of the city. As he walked over a bridge, he took a deep breath of the fresh air and exhaled. "This is amazing. I feel- ," he paused, trying to find the right words, "at peace." Percy smiled and looked around until his gaze landed in the center of the city where a tower dominated the rest of the cityscape. He followed it up a long way until he came to the top: a lantern at the top whose silver beam extended all the way out to sea.

"Amazing," whispered Percy, at a complete loss for words.

"Yes, it is quite magnificent isn't it?"

Percy spun around and instinctively uncapped Riptide and pointed at the stranger. The stranger was fair as far as guys go- he had piercing blue eyes, and his hair looked golden in the sunlight. He looked friendly, but he had a silver breastplate on with an ornate sword at his side. His blue cape was flowing in the light breeze. When the stranger saw Riptide, he just laughed. "No need for that my friend, I mean you no harm." The stranger's voice was warm and welcoming; Percy smiled and put Riptide away without thinking.

"Um, no offense, but who are you?"

The stranger smiled and said, "I am Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, I have come to bring you to the Valar. Walk with me."

It was a long walk from city to wherever Eönwë was taking him, but Percy didn't mind; the landscape was beautiful, and it gave him a chance to ask Eönwë all the questions he had.

" Eönwë, why is that city deserted? It's of such amazing craftsmanship; why would they leave?"

He laughed. "No; it's not deserted; you just arrived at the time of festival. All our peoples are gathered at Valmar to celebrate.

"Oh," Percy paused for a moment. "Who built that city anyways?"

Eönwë seemed to sadden at that question and didn't answer right away.

"Um, was that a bad question?"

"No, it but recalls darker days," Eönwë responded. "That city is Tirion upon Tuna; it was built by the Noldor elves many millennia ago."

"Wait, elves? There are legit elves here?"

Eönwë smiled, "You have much to learn, but yes, there are elves here. They are one of the two kinds of the children of Eru Iluvatar. There are elves and men, but Aulë created the dwarves in secret long ago also."

"Cool," he paused, "Did something bad happen to the Noldor?"

"Feanor, the most gifted being ever to live, led them away to Middle Earth to reclaim the silmarils; almost none came back; they are now a diminished people, and darkness has ever lived on because of that."

"What's a silmaril," Percy asked, " and why would a guy lead a whole nation of elves to their deaths to try and reclaim it?"

"The silmarils were three gems created by Feanor; they contained light of their own, light from the two trees. Gems of their likeness shall never be crafted again, and all three shall not be reunited until the End, when the earth is changed and reshapen."

"Why, where are they right now?"

"One lies at the bottom of the Great Sea, one lies in the bowels of the earth, and the last-," Eönwë stopped.

"What about the last?" Percy asked; he was deeply intrigued by this.

It was dusk now, and the stars were beginning to shine. Eönwë looked up at the sky and pointed at the brightest star which clearly outshone the others. It was in a league of its own in the sky. "That, my friend, is the third silmaril. Behold the light of the two trees, for their light now rests only in the silmarils."

"Whoa," breathed Percy. "Wait, what are the two trees? What's so special about them?"

Eönwë laughed, "Ever full of questions are you?" Then he turned sad. "That question will have to wait though, the pain is still too near."

They walked mainly in silence, talking now and then, but before long. Percy saw light in the distance, and heard joyous songs and fair music.

"Is that-?"

"Yes," Eönwë replied. "Behold! Valmar of Many Bells. Come along! We are almost there.

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Just before they reached the city, Percy spotted two great grassy mounds with something at the top. When he asked about it, Eönwë replied, "That is where the two trees afore stood." Percy took the two withered husks at the top to be all that remained of them.

When Percy stepped inside the city, the music he had heard before seemed to become much more beautiful; Percy would have been content with stopping there and listening forever, but Eönwë ushered him along. The people he saw were beautiful; they must have been the elves Eönwë had told him about, but Percy had no idea they would look this good. The elf maidens were beautiful; the same word could also be used for the male elves. They all looked noble and in the prime of their youths, but Percy could see wisdom and sadness in their eyes.

The rest of that journey through the city was all a blur to Percy, and he couldn't remember any one moment of it afterwards; he could only remember that it was the most beautiful journey of his life. Bells were ringing and elves were laughing and dancing. There was much singing to be heard, but Percy walked with Eönwë all the way up to the mountain. When they reached the base of the mountain, Percy looked up and couldn't see the top; clouds inhibited his view. A staircase wound its way up.

Percy whistled. "Dang, that's a long way up." He looked expectantly at Eönwë, " Please, _please_ don't tell me we have to walk all the way up.

Eönwë only smiled.

"No way. No flippin' way we're gonna walk all the way up."

Eönwë sighed good-naturedly, "Then I suppose we shall have to take a different way up. Come, take my arm." Percy walked over to him and linked his right arm with Eönwë's left, and everything went black.

It seemed to be about a second later when Percy opened his eyes and found himself in front of a great and beautiful hall carved out of a white stone. Eagles flew all around him; most were far larger than any eagles he'd seen. He turned around and saw the end of the staircase. He walked over to it and peered down; all he could see were clouds far, _far_ below. "Oh man, Thalia would have a heart attack." The air was crisp and refreshing, but it was a bit weird that he could breathe at all at this height.

"Come," Eönwë beckoned. "you are called to the mansion in the high airs."

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Percy was standing in the middle of the great hall. At the end of the hall were two thrones. The one on his left bore a man looking to be in his thirties. He had shoulder-length silver hair and a silver goatee. His eyes were a piercing blue. Next to him was the most beautiful woman Percy had ever seen; she was too beautiful for words. She radiated such light and nobility he had to resist the urge to kneel down out of reverence. It wasn't like Percy was attracted to her at all, but he acknowledged the fact that she was the most beautiful being he ever saw; Aphrodite stood no chance. Scattered throughout the room were ten other beings, all radiating power. Some looked grim, some angry, and others hopeful.

"Welcome Perseus," Manwë started, "to Ilmarin upon Taniquetil."

"Um… hi." Percy awkwardly stated. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

One of the beings snorted in disgust. "This is who they send us to save Middle Earth; a bedraggled child?"

"Hold your tongue Oromë," Manwë rebuked, "he has the heart and mind of a warrior, and his decisions are just. He is a worthy hero."

Oromë seemed abashed, but he persisted, "Look at him. He could never face Sauron; Sauron's servants would make quick work of him."

Manwë stood up. "He is not expected to face Sauron; no one is. And do not underestimate him either; if I say he is a worthy hero, believe me. He is a fine man, and will do well; he is a hero." At that, Oromë sat down and did not speak again.

Percy looked down at the compliment, but soon he asked again. "Why was I called; what exactly was I chosen to do?"

Manwë gave Percy a sad smile, almost like he pitied him before he softly said, "You do not know why thou art here, do you child?"

"Um, no. Not really, no. That's kind of why I asked. Do you guys just need help or something?"

At this, Manwë turned grave. "An evil force has arisen, and he's raised an army to conquer all of Middle Earth. We are forbidden from interfering directly; Middle Earth will fall without assistance."

"No offense, but why don't you just send an elf warrior or something?"

"This is a war for men, and therefore it must be won by men; we cannot send a great elf warrior to help.

"So, why me?" Percy asked, confused.

Manwë smiled. "Olympus thinks highly of you Perseus; we asked for a champion and here you are.

"But what exactly am I supposed to _do_?"

"Ah, but we cannot tell you."

"What?" Percy asked as if he didn't hear Manwë correctly.

"This is your path; you must choose for yourself what you shall do."

"But I don't know what in Hades I'm supposed to do! How am I supposed to save the world when I don't know anything about this land or any of the people? How can I save Middle Earth all by myself?"

"But Perseus, you shall not _be_ alone. When you get to Middle Earth, search for my own friend, Olorin. He will be known as Gandalf, and he will help you on your way.

"Hol-, wait-, _what_?

"And Perseus, remember- your mission is but this: protect Middle Earth from Sauron's minions. Everything else will be made clear along your journey."

"So, this is it?"

"Farewell Perseus. May luck shine on you on your journey, and don't forget who you are." And at that Manwë snapped his fingers and everything went black.

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**Okay, thanks for reading guys. Please leave a review, tell me what you want to see, etc. I'll try to update as soon as I can, hopefully the chapters will be getting longer. Well, thanks for reading.**

**~TheDragon12**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! School's back again and track started, so I won't have as much time to type as I would like, but I'll still try to get out a chapter a week. This was not my favorite chapter to write, and was really hard, but hopefully you'll like it; they'll get better as time goes on. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought- nothing ****makes writers happier!**

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Percy awoke to the sound of running water. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet when he realized that he was sleeping outside, most likely in the middle of nowhere, if the Valar's sense of humor was anything to go by. _I mean, really_, Percy thought, _who sends a guy on a quest to save the entire world without telling him what he has to do? Oh, wait; the gods did that all the time... _He groaned and got up off the soft grass and heather he had been sleeping on. He realized he was in the middle of a forest, with a small creek gurgling to his right. Where the creek flowed there was a small gap in the tree canopy above, though the forest wasn't very dense anyways.

_It must be very early morning_, Percy reasoned;_ it's still dark out, but there's a reddish haze in the sky from what I can see._ He walked over to the creek and knelt down to flush water over his face; nothing left him more refreshed and awake. Just out of curiosity, Percy willed the water to form a trident. He felt a small tug in his gut, and a watery trident rose above the waters and came to his hands. Percy smiled and let it fall back to the creek. "So my powers _do _still work in this world; good to know." He stood there for several moments, simply listening to the creek; in this land, the water felt... more alive.

When he got back up and dried his face, he leaned against the nearest tree and relaxed. All Percy did for a long time was think. He thought so hard and fully that he was positive Annabeth would be proud. He thought about his quest- what was he supposed to do? He knew nothing about this land, its peoples, or the different nations. Percy kicked a rock in frustration.

"Well you guys could at least give me a little bit of help!" Percy called out at the sky. Then he sat down at the bottom of the tree he was leaning against. "I don't know where to start; I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he said more quietly.

"You are frustrated are you not?"

In an instant Riptide was in Percy's hands and he spun around, looking for the source of the voice. "Who said that?"

"Yet you are also worried," the voice breathed.

"Who are you?"

"A friend, if you will. Do not be discouraged; remember Manwë's advice. He says to seek out Gandalf, and he will help you. I go one step further: I say also seek out Aragorn son of Arathorn."

"How am I supposed to find him?" There was a pause, and the only sound for a while was the creek running its course, that's when he realized that the voice had been coming from the water. "And why does your voice come from the water?" Percy called out in a last-ditch effort to continue the conversation.

"You and I are more similar than you think Perseus Jackson, demigod son of Poseidon. You are bound to water, as am I. For that, it was I who was sent to help you. Do not worry, you will find Aragorn."

"Oh, um, thank you." Percy coughed out. "So, is that it, or -."

"Manwë sends you a token. When you find Gandalf, show him it."

Percy felt something weird on his left hand. When he looked at it he gasped. "What the-?" On his ring finger appeared a ring; it hadn't been there before.

"This will help you on your quest."

"How did-?"

"Remember the waters, Perseus, when you are in need." There was a pause, and just when Percy was beginning to think the talk was done, he heard the fading voice say, "When the time comes, do not be afraid to be the leader," and everything went back to normal. His conversation was over.

* * *

Percy had a lot to contemplate as he sat by the creek. Now he knew that he had to try to find a certain Aragorn fellow. As he looked back at the creek, he saw the reflection of many stars. Out of curiosity, he gazed upwards at the purple sky and gasped. Shining above him were millions of stars still burning in the early morning. His curiosity piqued, Percy climbed the nearest tree to the top, and lo and behold, there, in the east, was that third silmaril, shining brighter than ever in the dawn sky. A light breeze from the east ruffled his hair and caressed his face; just then he noticed that he was in fact on the _edge_ of the woods, and he thought he saw smoke wafting up in the air several miles away. Taking it to mean civilization, he climbed down from the tree and started to walk.

He walked through the woods for almost an hour, trying to reach the edge and try to find whatever civilization he could. It was a crisp morning, but a refreshing one, and Percy took pleasure in gazing up at the morning sky, or watch the tree leaves flutter in the breeze. Walking was a bit tricky because of the lack of a path, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He noticed squirrels scattering up trees or rabbits bounding the forest floor. He even saw a few deer prancing through the trees, but most of all, Percy thought. He thought about many topics: mainly about saving this world, but other issues popped into his head too.

Up ahead, he saw light break through the trees. Excited, he ran (and fell a few times) towards it. _Screw it,_ he thought._ I'm going towards the light and there's not a thing you can do about it. _Soon he broke through and found himself on edge of the woods in a grassy area. He saw up ahead was a great hill a couple of miles long with smoke rising in the air a few miles away, coming from behind the hill. By now it was now morning, and the sun was up in the azure sky. Puffy clouds were wafting about high above. Soon Percy began to walk eastwards towards the smoke.

After another hour's worth of walking, he was met with a pleasant sight. He found the settlement a short bit away, and he saw the road that led up to it. The settlement consisted of about one hundred stone houses, but what was weirder was that above the houses, higher up the hill, were little homes built right into the hill. Most houses weren't very large and none were in great condition. There was no walls to the city, but there was a thick hedge with a deep dike in front of it with a gate separating parts of the hedge.

The road leading out of town soon turned into a path which Percy realized was right beside him the entire time without him realizing it. Along the road coming towards him was a small group; one of the people was leading a horse. Percy also noticed that while one of the travelers was a tall man, the others were very short; they looked to be almost half the height. He was a bit confused why a traveling man would bring four small children with him, but he'd seen stranger things.

When they got closer he noticed that the children didn't look like children at all; they all had adult faces and proportions, only with three feet of height. _Well, if there's elves and dwarves, why not these midget-people? _Right when they got close to meeting, Percy raised his hand in greeting and signaled for them to come closer. The four short people glanced at each other at this and seemed to exchange thoughts, but the tall one strode confidently forward, though Percy realized he had his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword. He had dark, shoulder-length hair and gray eyes. He had an aura of nobility surrounding him, and it took all his willpower for Percy to look him in the eyes.

"Greetings strangers," Percy began, though the words were a bit hard to say because of his nervousness, "have any among you heard of a certain Aragorn son of Arathorn?"

The tall one inclined his head. "The name does sound familiar, but I do not think I could put a face to it." At this the four others cast confused glances at each other, but Percy paid no heed to that.

"Well, then have any of you heard of Gandalf, or Olórin perhaps?"

The stranger was already shaking his head 'no' until he heard the name 'Olórin'. At that point his eyes widened and he looked very perplexed. "What business do you have with Gandalf? And how do you know the name ' Olórin'?

"Look, I'm really confused about a lot of things, and I was told Gandalf, Olórin- whatever, could help me, maybe give me some information and advice."

The stranger nodded; he understood that part. "And Aragorn? Why did you want to meet with him?"

Percy shrugged. "Same reason; apparently he could help me."

The stranger went silent and seemed to be thinking; he acted surprised that this information was given. The four others still remained silent, though he could tell they were intrigued by how this was going. Finally, after a minute, the stranger looked Percy right in the eyes, unsheathed his sword, pointed it at Percy's exposed neck and proclaimed, "_I_ am Aragorn son of Arathorn. Now you best get talking."

* * *

When Percy heard that the man in front of him was Aragorn, something in him stirred. Somehow, he realized that he _needed _to join Aragorn on his journey. He felt as if the Valar were putting thoughts in his head and telling him what to do; honestly, the thought reassured him. With words that were not his own, Percy went ahead and boldly said, "I need to join you on your quest."

Aragorn feigned confusion, "What quest?"

"You know what quest I'm talking about." Percy didn't know what quest he was talking about. The words just came to him.

Aragorn just stared at Percy for a while, as if he was inspecting him. Then he smiled good-naturedly. "You don't know what the quest is, do you?"

"Um, no. But I _do_ need to join you. The fate of Middle Earth depends on it. Wow. That actually sounded really cliche."

The boy was starting to grow on Aragorn, but he still didn't quite trust him yet. "How do I know I can trust you? You might be a spy."

Percy didn't really know what to say to that. Then he thought of the ring. He took it off his finger and handed it to Aragorn without saying a word. Aragorn took it and looked it over for a few minutes. Gradually his eyes widened and his mouth started to drop.

"How came you by this?" he inquired breathlessly. He was absolutely awestruck.

"I take it 'I found it' wouldn't quite cut it, would it?"

"No! How- this is impossible, unless..."

Percy smiled. "Unless..."

"Unless..."

Percy inclined his head and smiled. "Well...?"

Aragorn was silent a second. "You're coming with us."

"I'm glad you see it my way."

* * *

They walked a long time, and were going to continue walking for a long time- as in _weeks_, he was told that they were going to Rivendell, about a two weeks' walk from here, though it could be more than that. They set out from Bree at about ten in the morning, and now they were wandering through the woods Percy awoke in. Chetwood it was called, he learned. He also learned that the four short people were called hobbits. There was Frodo Baggins- he was pretty serious most of the time, but would joke around with the other hobbits. There Samwise Gamgee- Sam- he was totally dedicated to Frodo his master. Then there was Meriadoc Brandybuck-Merry, and Peregrin Took- Pippin. Those two were two of the funniest people he had ever met. They resembled the Stolls immensely. Even though walking was a pain, and would be for the next few weeks and possibly longer, they were pretty good at lightening the mood.

Walking was not unpleasant; it was sunny but not too hot. As they walked, Aragorn wanted everyone to keep somewhat quiet to avoid being heard by anyone, but Aragorn talked with Percy quite a lot. From that, Percy was able to figure out that Frodo was carrying something very important, and that they needed to get to Rivendell to as quickly and safely as possible. Rivendell was a safe haven, he was told. It was were Elrond Halfelven dwelt- wisest in Middle Earth. It was one of the few elven dwellings left, but anyone was welcome. Percy was asked about where he came from quite a bit, but Percy could only tell them 'I can't really say.'

They had long since turned away from the road, and the land had been falling steadily. On the third day out from Bree they emerged from the Chetwood, and now they entered a wide expanse of land, much more difficult to manage without a road, but Aragorn led them on without fail. The ground began to grow boggy and humid, and soon they reached the edge of Midgewater Marshes. Percy could honestly say those were two of the most miserable days of his life. They made decent progress in the beginning, but soon it was slower and more perilous. There were no permanent paths to trod because of the shifting bogs, and even Aragorn had trouble steering them through. The worst part was the flies. They were with them wherever they went, and the air was full of them, pestering the group wherever they went.

"I'm being eaten alive!" cried Pippin.

"Midgewater?" Percy snorted. "I do believe there are more midges than water here."

They camped there for the miserable night, but the next day wasn't any better. It was the fourth day out from Bree; only a week and a half to go. The night was just as bad as the day, and no one could sleep. Far off in the sky came flashes of light that faded. This was seen many times.

"What is that light?" Frodo asked.

"It is too distant to make out." Aragorn answered.

"Lightning maybe?" Percy offered.

"I do not think so," Aragorn responded, but he said no more.

The next day they exited the Marshes and the land began to rise again. In the east they could see many hills, the tallest one at the right- the southernmost tower. It was conical with a flattened top. It rose a thousand feet above the surrounding land.

"What's that?" Merry asked.

"That is Weathertop, my friend. That is almost halfway to Rivendell. We make straight towards it tomorrow; we have to get there as soon as possible. Who knows what we'll find there."

"Do you think we'll find Gandalf there?" Frodo asked.

"Maybe, but we cannot wait there long for him; the Black Riders are likely to make for it too; it offers great vantage point."

"Why would Gandalf be at Weathertop?" Percy asked.

Aragorn answered, "We received a letter from him at Bree; he seemed to be going away into great danger. If he came back to the area to meet up with us, he would try to wait at Weathertop, though I fear he has already come and gone."

The next day they arrived at Weathertop. Aragorn led them up a path on the Northern edge- a path that was actually visible.

"Hey! There's a path! Now we can actually _see_ where we're going. We're really getting spoiled here," Percy remarked sarcastically

Aragorn smiled. "Let's not make a habit of this then." They all followed Aragorn up the hill along the narrow path.

On the flattened top of the hill there was a ring of stones, broken and burnt.

"What happened here?" asked Sam.

"This is what remains of the tower Amon Súl. It was manned by the men of Arnor long ago. It was attacked and destroyed by the forces of Angmar.

They looked around the area for a while. Percy saw Frodo standing on the edge, looking at the surrounding miles of barren land. He walked over and stood next to Frodo.

"What are you looking at?"

Frodo spun around, surprised that he was there. "Nothing."

"Searching for Black Riders?"

"What do _you_ know about them?"

"Nothing at all. I just know that they're bad news and they've been chasing you guys for a while. I overheard the four of you and Aragorn talking."

Frodo looked down. "You don't talk normal, and you sure don't dress normal," he said, eyeing Percy's faded jeans and dirty Camp Half-Blood T-Shirt. "Where are you from?"

Percy sighed; he couldn't hide the truth for very long. "I come from very far away. I came here because you needed help."

Frodo looked at him strangely. "What help can _you_ give- you're not even an adult yet." Then he realized what he'd said and he blushed. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean it like that,"

Percy laughed. "No, I knew what you meant. I am still pretty young, but don't worry. I can help."

Frodo smiled. They talked a bit more before Frodo went back to the other hobbits. Percy just stood there, leaning on a stone while staring out at the land around them. By now, the sun was setting and night was drawing near; he thought he heard something from the hobbits about setting up camp. After a while, he thought he saw movement by the Road to the south. He waited, alarmed, but he saw no more. He began to think it was nothing, but the he saw some more movement; this time it was closer. And then he saw them - two black figures creeping towards Weathertop. Percy stood there staring at them for a minute before he was jerked back into reality. He ran to tell the others.

It was night now. The other hobbits had made themselves quite comfortable in a little dell in the side of the hill. They had a fire going and a meal cooking when Percy ran in.

"Where's Aragorn?" he shouted.

"He went out to get some more firewood," Sam replied. "Why, what's the matter?"

"I've been searching for him for a while now and I've seen no sign of him."

"Why? What's the problem?"

"Black Riders. They're on their way."

The hobbits were on their feet in no time. "How many?" enjoined Frodo.

"I don't know, at least two, maybe more."

"What do we do?" Merry cried.

"Do you have swords?" The hobbits nodded. "Then come with me to the top. We're enclosed here in this dell- this is certain death unless we run to the top. I'll hold them off long enough for you guys to escape with Aragorn."

"How are you going to hold off multiple Black Riders?" Pippin asked in disbelief at the same time Sam shouted "We're not leaving you!"

"Oh, that too," Pippin recovered.

Percy smiled. "You've never seen me swordfight."

"But you don't have a sword!"

Percy wordlessly uncapped Riptide and it sprang into a three-foot celestial bronze sword blade. The hobbits jumped back.

"How did-"

"No time- follow me."

* * *

The five arrived at the top a little bit. The moon was no longer clouded and its silver beams slightly illuminated the tower remains. Strange shadows were cast by the fallen stones all around the hilltop. Riptide cast a faint glow around them. The hobbits took out their swords, well, if you can call them that. They were more like long daggers. They stood back to back so all angles were being watched. Percy stood a bit ahead of them looking for the wraiths. They stood there wordlessly for five minutes, and when they were beginning to feel hopeful, five shadows soundlessly appeared over the lip of the mount. They advanced slowly, naked blades in hand. All that was seen were black cloaks and hoods- no face was seen, and Percy had the feeling that if the hood came off, you still wouldn't see a face. Soon they formed a semicircle around the hobbits. Not waiting for any further provocation, a yell ripped from Percy's throat and he ran at one of Black Riders.

This took the wraith by surprise but it quickly recovered. Percy slashed at its chest, but it was hidden in shadow; Percy couldn't see it. Suddenly, a glittering blade came slashing at him. Percy parried it, but the motion took a lot of strength. _Hades it's strong!_ Percy ducked underneath the next slash and thrust at the Black Rider. He heard a shrill shriek that almost deafened him and figured he'd made contact. Looking back, he saw the hobbits trying their best to parry the wraiths' strikes, but it wouldn't last. Leaving the injured wraith to flee, he attacked another one. This one spun around faster than should have been possible and stabbed at Percy. He managed to dodge left, but he tripped on a loose rock and went down. Looking up, he saw a dark figure over him. He rolled to avoid a sword thrust, and jumped up to his feet. He feinted left, and brought Riptide in an arc over the wraith's head and struck at were his side would be. He heard that same shriek and the shadow turned and fled.

Percy was feeling pretty good about that until a blade came out of the shadow and slashed him across the chest. Pain erupted in his torso and he fell to the ground, seeing spots. He lay there looking at his surroundings: he saw three hobbits fighting still, but they weren't doing so well. Frodo was nowhere to be seen. Percy couldn't move and when he saw the sword poised above him, the only thing that went through his head was _I'm sorry Annabeth._ Suddenly Aragorn came out of nowhere with a shout, wielding a sword and a burning stick. He swung at the wraith above Percy and it backed away.

Percy was able to get up, just not without a lot of pain. Ignoring it, he grasped Riptide and started fighting one of three remaining wraiths; Aragorn was keeping the other two busy. Percy ducked under a blow, and rolled to the wraith's feet where he stabbed upwards right into the wraith's torso. It turned and fled. He turned and saw Aragorn fighting one, but where was the fifth?

Suddenly came a call of _O Elbereth; Gilthoniel!_ and the last wraith, over by the hobbits shrieked. Suddenly the wraith pulled a dagger out of its sleeve and stabbed at the air. There came a solid _whump_ and Frodo fell to the ground where there was just air before. With a wild look in his eyes, Aragorn, who had defeated the fourth wraith, turned and through the torch at the last menace. Its cloak caught on fire and it fled, shrieking. It was over. He put a hand to his chest; when he pulled it back, it was doused in blood. Then all the pain and exhaustion came back to him and he fell to the ground, everything fading to black.

* * *

**Well, I hope you liked it! It's a bit longer than the other ones, so hopefully you guys appreciated that. Thanks for reading and please leave a review. Have a good day! **

**~TheDragon12**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey Guys. This one took a while to do, but I think it's pretty decent. Please leave a review, but Read The Author's Note At The Bottom! Read on.**

_There was smoke in the air. Flames surrounded him. He was in a white city- fair and beautiful, the stone ornately carved and masterfully worked. He looked around; there were soldiers in silver armor wielding lances and swords- they were running away. Chasing them were hideous, foul creatures with disfigured armor and cruel weapons. Rocks were raining from the sky, destroying buildings and sending stone cascading down. One soldier tried to turn and fight, but the goblins pounced on him, using their fangs and claws as much as their weapons. _

_ Thundering up the street came a huge behemoth wielding a club. The creature was a wall of rippling muscle and hatred- anything that stood in its way was crushed. Through the wreckage of massive gates poured in the goblins and the troll-like creatures. Their numbers never seemed to end; Percy could see that victory for the soldiers was hopeless- they would be overrun quickly, defeat was imminent. Suddenly he was picked up into the air and flung to extreme heights where he could see the land laid out before him. The white city was at the head of a mountain, and a few miles away was another city on the bank of a river. Both cities were burning and in ruins._

_ Then he was pulled at unimaginable speed towards black mountains in the distance. He reached them in no time and was pulled into the ash beyond. Below him was arranged a massive army, hundreds of thousands strong. They were in somewhat orderly rows with many of the trolls among them. He was pulled toward a looming structure; behind it was a volcano. He was at the base of the building; it was constructed of black stone with cruel twisted spikes sprouting up from any outcropping._

_ He was whipped upwards. The air was foul and the ash stung his throat. He went up and up, but the building never seemed to end. At last he arrived at the top, and there was a huge fiery eye, filled with malice and darkness. At the sight of it he was filled with terror. It peered into his soul and sifted through his mind. He tried to look away, but he couldn't- he was held in place. He could feel the presence trying to gain control of his mind and decipher his thoughts, so he tried shielding his mind; it didn't work. He was turned around to look at the army again. It covered the whole rocky plain in front of the tower. The army was endless._

_ In an instant he saw all the settlements in this land. They were all in fire with those wicked creatures pillaging them, routing and killing the inhabitants. No one was left alive. Middle Earth was no more- everyone was dead and under the rule of the One Eye that had control over him. The vision ended and he was back in front of the evil Eye. _

_ A dark voice laughed in his head. "Fight, little demigod, fight. It will make no matter in the end."_

_ "Who are you?"_

_ "I am the Lord of Middle Earth. You were sent from across the sea to help defeat me." The voice laughed again. "You are worthless; you will burn too. Unless..."_

_ He didn't like where this was going. "Unless what?" he warily asked._

_ Percy perceived that the darkness smiled. "Can't you see that you are being used? Once the Valar are finished with you they will toss you away like your own gods have done so often."_

_ Percy said nothing._

_ "Why die for them? They care not about you. You can continue to be their puppet, or you can join me. I will make you immortal- you will be a god; you will rule Middle-Earth. _

_ "You know, I've heard this lecture twice already, I really don't need to hear it again; I get it."_

_ Percy could visualize the shadow snarling. "You are an immature child. You will fight and die, or you will join me and become a god."_

_ "What I'm wondering is why you're so hell-bent on ge-wait; do you guys _have_ Hell here? Actually, never mind, don't answer that. Now as I was saying, why are you so focused on getting me to join you? It's like you-," then it dawned on him. "You're afraid of me. You want me to join you because you think that I could -."_

_ The world began to tremble. He realized the figure was laughing. "Why would a God fear an ant? You will burn." Then Percy was flung right into the burning eye._

Percy jerked awake with a slight scream. Instinctively he reached for Riptide and stood up, but his chest uttered a cry of complaint when he tried to stand and he had to sit down. He breathed heavily and looked around; it was still night, and judging by the moon's position, he figured he'd been out for a few hours. Or a few days, hard to tell.

He was lying on rock, and that did nothing to help his back. He reluctantly got up and stretched, grimacing at the all the cracks emanating from his joints. _The mighty warrior hobbles into battle,_ Percy joked to himself. _With my sword as my cane, I will strike fear into the hearts of my enemies._ He looked around; he was still on Weathertop, but his companions were nowhere to be seen.

At the thought of last, well, this night's events he winced. Percy could feel the icy blade cutting across his chest. He could hear the ear-piercing shrieks of the wraiths that seemed to wriggle their way into his soul and grasp it in its icy claw. He shivered. Suddenly he heard voices from the opposite side of Weathertop, so he walked over there. He was a bit sore however, so it was no surprise when he tripped on a rock. When he put his arms out to break his fall, his chest once again erupted into pain. He sat down, sweating. He lifted his shirt, and there, under a fresh bandage, almost straight across his chest, was a bloody scar, newly closed. _Well, Dad,_ he prayed, not knowing if Poseidon could even hear him or not,_ I've been here for a week, and I've already almost got myself killed. Yeah, this is world-saving material right here. Maybe you could put me on a bulletin board: 'Rookie of the century'. _He sighed and carefully stood up as he made his way across the dark tower.

Percy heard a _Clang_ when he was walking and realized he'd stepped on something metal. He knelt down, careful not to disturb his wound, and tried to find what he'd stepped on in the dark. There was enough moonlight for him to find what looked to be a long dagger. The tip was broken off. Not thinking much of it,_ because after all, this used to be an armed guard tower,_ he put it in his pocket and walked on.

After a minute he saw them in that same dell where they were in a few hours ago. What he saw when he reached them alarmed him. He saw the three hobbits crowded around Frodo who was pale as ice. Pippin must have heard him coming, because he turned towards him and his face brightened, temporarily forgetting the dark situation.

"Percy! You're awake."

He yawned. "More or less."

"You saved our lives!"

Percy shrugged. "It was nothing."

This time Merry cut in. "Nothing?" he said in disbelief. "That was the best swordplay I've ever seen! You held off three of them at once! Any one of them would have made quick work of us."

"Nah, I saw you guys holding your own against one of them."

"For a minute! How did you, 18-year-old you, take on three?"

"I've been trained, but we'll talk later. Right now tell me about Frodo." He quickly knelt down around them and turned towards Sam. "What happened to him?"

"He was stabbed in the shoulder, but he's hurt far more than he should be, according to Strider."

_ Strider, Aragorn- same thing. Right._ "Where's Aragorn right now?"

"He went off shortly after the attack, once he bandaged you and Frodo. He seemed awfully worried after you went down."

"He didn't worry enough to take me to you guys?" Percy teased.

Sam blushed, but Pippin spoke. "Um, no. That was our doing. We moved Frodo here for shelter, but we weren't even going to try to move you." He finished with a smile, but Percy felt it was just to keep the mood up.

"Thanks a lot."

Merry walked over. "How bad is your wound anyways?"

Percy shrugged. "It hurts like Hades, but it's not deep; I was able to dodge the worst of it, but I don't think I'll be swinging a sword 'till I find some water."

Pippin looked up at him confusedly. "Water; why?"

"Erm, never mind." At that thought however, he was struck by an idea. "Someone hand me their water skin. I might be able to help Frodo."

Deciding not to question him, Merry handed Percy his water skin. Percy took it and poured a little bit on Frodo's wound after removing the bandage. Frodo gasped and his eyes flew open, but they closed again and he slipped back into unconsciousness. Putting his hand on the wound, Percy willed the water to seep through the affected area, healing the damage caused by the stab. He could feel the water coursing through the wound. After a little while, he felt something in the wound; he couldn't tell what it was, but it wasn't good. For all he knew, that might be what the problem was. He tried to do something about it, but he couldn't. He knelt by Frodo for what seemed to be an hour, but he couldn't seem to heal Frodo at all or do anything about the obstruction; he had no power over the wraith or whatever it used to stab Frodo. He sat up.

"What were you trying to do?" inquired Sam.

"I was trying to clean out the wound." _Not entirely a lie._ Percy yawned; trying to heal Frodo took a lot out of him. "How long was I there?"

Sam shrugged. "Only a couple of minutes."

"Really? It felt a lot longer than that."

Right then Percy thought he heard something up on top of Weathertop. "Stay here," he told the hobbits.

"Why?" Pippin asked.

"I thought I heard something up top; I'm gonna go check it out."

The hobbits tried to complain, but Percy held up his hand and they went silent. "No buts, keep quiet," and with that he picked up Riptide and went out to inspect. He walked warily, always expecting a black shadow to jump out at him from the darkness, sword in hand. What he saw made him feel stupid.

"Aragorn," he greeted, "where were you?"

Aragorn's exression turned from worried to relieved and a bit angry. "Thank Manwë you're here. I came back and none of you were here; I feared you were taken, or worse."

"Nah, the hobbits moved into the dell in the side of the hill. Granted they didn't move me, but we're all good. Where were you anyways?"

"I went out to look for what might help Frodo. I walked a long while, but I eventually found what I was looking for, some _athelas_, or kingsfoil. The plant has many healing properties."

"Is Frodo really in such a bad shape? The wound doesn't look that deep."

Aragorn sighed. "That is what I do not understand. The wound should not be as bad as it has proven to be." Then he looked up; his gaze was piercing and accusing. "It would be much worse for everyone if not for you. How you managed to take on three Ringwraiths and win is incredible, especially because of your age. Almost any full-grown man would have been overwhelmed by one." He waited for an answer.

Percy looked down and planned what he was about to say very carefully. "I can't say much, but I will tell you that I've been trained in fighting for the past six years."

Aragon almost smiled. "So you don't give up your secrets easily, eh? Well that makes two of us," he thought for a moment. "How is your chest? That was a long cut you received."

Percy shrugged. "It wasn't too deep. Come with me though; the hobbits are this way and Frodo's not doing too well."

* * *

Percy watched Aragorn kneel beside Frodo. He put his hand on Frodo's forehead and announced, "He still has a fever." Percy cursed. They'd been working for a few hours, and Aragorn did his thing with the kingsfoil, but with no results. No matter what they tried, Frodo's health deteriorated. It didn't make sense.

"Strider, what are we going to do?" asked a concerned Sam.

"I can't heal him if I don't know what's wrong with him. We're going to have to continue on to Rivendell; Lord Elrond can heal him.

That's when Percy remembered what he had found out when trying to heal Frodo. "Aragorn!" he burst out- he had an idea about what might be the problem. "I was trying to clean the wound earlier, and found out that something was in the wound.

Aragorn listened on intently.

Percy didn't really know what else to say, but he continued anyways. "Somewhere in the wound, there was something solid. I don't know what it is, but it wasn't good, and... and-" suddenly all the puzzle pieces fit together and he felt like slapping himself. _I'm such an idot!_ "When I was walking, I stumbled across this, quite literally," and he pulled out the broken knife he had found on the ground. "The tip of this knife is gone, and I think the knife might have been one of the Black Rider's. If it was, and the tip is lodged in Frodo, well, that can't be good."

Aragorn's eyes widened. "Give me the blade!" he commanded. When Percy gave it to him, he inspected it for a moment and cursed. As he was holding it, what remained of the blade melted away in black smoke and Aragorn threw it away. He groaned, probably feeling as stupid as Percy had just felt. "Frodo was stabbed by a Morgul blade. This explains everything!"

Percy started nodding. "Okay; so would you mind explaining everything to us then?"

"The tip of the blade is in Frodo now, and its working its way to his heart now. If it reaches it, then Frodo will become a wraith much like them, and I do not have the power to extract it."

"Well that can't be good."

Pippin mutely nodded. Merry spoke up, "That's an understatement."

"So we make for Rivendell?" Percy asked.

Aragorn answered, "Yes, and fast."

* * *

It was slow going. They had to travel quickly to reach Rivendell, but they could only travel so fast with Frodo. Frodo was put on Bill the pony, so all of them had to carry everything that Bill was formerly carrying. On the plus side, Bill was much happier with the reduce in weight he had to carry, and he never failed to let Percy forget it.

Frodo's condition hadn't improved much since they left Weathertop, but he was joking around with the other hobbits from time to time, so Percy figured he was only hurt physically, not as much mentally.

At the first chance they got, Percy found a stream and used it to heal his wound, so traveling was that much more tolerable. He always felt the wound though; the cold blade piercing his skin was something he would never forget, nor the screams of the Black Riders.

They had their eyes open for Black Riders at every moment, but they had not seen any signs of them yet in the days since they left Weathertop. They had been trying to stay off the road as much as possible, and that made for harder travel. Aragorn had actually taken them on a different way through the wilderness many miles south of the road. Their path passed through barren country, and marching was tiring, but the land was starting to rise again, and wooded hills could be seen in the distance, much to the delight of the company. It would be a pleasant change to the stark, desolate land they'd been marching through the past six days. As they drew nearer, they discovered a river flowing right in front of them.

"Strider, what river is this?" asked Sam.

"This is the River Hoarwell," Aragorn said, gesturing towards the silver river, "which the elves call Mitheithel. It flows out of the Ettenmoors in the north and joins the Loudwater in the south; it is called the Greyflood after that. It is great when it reaches the sea."

Percy looked far in the distance where he saw another river amid stony cliffs. "Is that the Loudwater over there?"

Aragorn smiled approvingly. "You have very good eyesight, but yes, that is the Loudwater, or Bruinen. I have not decided how we are to cross it yet, but that can wait. Now we shall have to turn back to the Road to cross over the Hoarwell on the Last Bridge."

Percy grimaced. "The Black Riders must know we have to cross the Last Bridge. How do we know they aren't holding the Bridge against us or that they're laying in wait to ambush us?

"You're learning very quickly. We don't know any of that, so we must be very cautious as we proceed.

They reached the bridge over the Hoarwell, and did not find it held against them, but Aragorn still insisted they hide in the brush for a few hours to make sure nobody was around them. They were going to proceed when their worst fears came true. A black horse trotted up onto the bridge; on its back was a figure cloaked in black. Then came two more. Then two more blocked the Road from the rear- they were trapped.

"Aragorn, what do we do?" Pippin whispered, his face as white as the other hobbits.

"They shouldn't know we're here; if we wait they might leave."

Percy cut in. "If they thought we passed on, they wouldn't be waiting; they know we're here and they're not going to leave us."

As if on cue, a silent whisper of a voice cut through the air. It struck terror into Percy as it cut into his soul; he figured the hobbits were even more terrified.

_Come out in the name of Mordor._

"Dang, we're in a tight spot." Everyone just looked at Percy in confusion. He coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. "Um, sorry. You wouldn't understand that reference."

The black figures waited, not moving. Percy knew that he had to draw their attention away to let the rest pass over. "Wait here, I'm gonna go distract them."

Aragorn reacted swiftly, grabbing Percy's arm before he could move. "No!" he fiercely whispered. "We have to stick together; if you go you'll be killed."

"Trust me."

Aragorn looked at him. There was a fierce look Percy's eyes, and he knew that nothing he could say would dissuade the boy. Also, his main priority was to protect Frodo, and he couldn't do that with the Ringwraiths here. "Fine, but if anything happens, I'm coming."

Percy smiled. "Wonderful."

* * *

Percy had a plan, but by now he was starting to hate his plans. It couldn't even count as a 'plan' really. It just involved himself being bait and a distraction. _Oh boy, Annabeth could really come in handy at a time like this_. He walked about a mile in the brush to avoid giving away their position, then he turned back to the road. He walked towards the bridge and stopped in the middle of the road in plain sight of the Black Riders and just stopped. He could see the hobbits' hiding place, and he made eye contact with Aragorn; he nodded almost imperceptibly in Aragorn's direction. Aragorn nodded back. _ Time to put my master plan into action. This is probably the best plan anyone could ever have thought up. _Then he snorted._ Wow; that almost sounded serious._

"Hey, uh, move aside… please?"

Okay, maybe not the best way to start off a battle, but Percy needed the Black Riders to follow him, and he figured outright stupidity would be his best bet; he was good at it.

The riders seemed to laugh among themselves, and they all drew their swords at once. Without waiting any more, they began to make their way towards Percy, eager for revenge after Weathertop. Percy looked at Aragorn and tried to communicate to stay there; he could tell Aragorn wanted to jump out and attack, but if he did then they'd all be screwed. Percy quickly turned and ran.

He knew he would be quickly overtaken by their horses if he stayed on the road, so he ran off the road. To his delight, they followed. He ran back to a small pond they had passed on the way in, and when they were almost upon him he jumped into the pond and willed it to launch him backwards like a trampoline. The wraiths reared their horses, but Percy was long past already and was running back to the bridge.

When Percy got back to the bridge, he saw the others had already crossed. He ran over to Aragorn who seemed very relieved to see him in one piece with his head attached.

"How did you lose them?"

"I didn't; I just delayed them, so we have to go NOW!"

They heard a whinny of a horse and looked back to see the Black Riders on the other side of the bridge.

_Give us the Ring_.

"Go chase a doughnut," Percy muttered.

The Black Riders charged.

Percy took Riptide in two hands and with a mighty stroke slammed its pommel into the ground. Percy didn't like to use his powers as Son of the Earthshaker, but he didn't see another option now. The ground started vibrating and a crack appeared before Percy's feet. Under the tension, the bridge started rattling, and it broke apart, falling into the river.

The Riders reared on the other side. One of them, who seemed to be the leader, strode forward and pointed a finger at Percy. _You will burn…_

"Others have tried. They kinda exploded."

Then Percy turned and ran to the others. They had awestruck faces, and the hobbits' mouths open. He smiled as he met up with them. "Okay, I daresay we move on; that won't delay them forever, and our next reunion won't be too fun."

Aragorn seemed shocked, but Percy could see that he was very skilled at hiding his emotions and keeping a calm composure.

"I would ask how you did that, but I have the feeling that you won't give me a answer anyways."

Percy laughed. It was a good deep laugh that none of the company had uttered the past week. Then he clapped Aragorn on the back. "See, we _are_ getting to know each other."

"You owe the elves a new bridge," Pippin quipped.

"I'll take it up with them. Now we best get moving."

* * *

Percy wasn't sure if the gods, his gods, could work their power in this land, but either way, someone was out to get him. After his skirmish at the bridge, they had once again abandoned the road and taken a rocky ravine northwards to lose anything that might follow them *cough* Black Riders *cough*. Progress was miserable the first four days with Frodo's condition worsening, and the whole wilderness aspect didn't help matters. They had to trek through rocks and logs on the path, and it was rainy the whole time- they barely covered any land those first days. The fifth day was little better, and the sixth day they were scared when Pippin returned announcing he had seen three trolls. Well, those turned out to be statues from a long time ago.

Making any progress through this land, the Trollshaws they were apparently called, was difficult. They were just maneuvering through a collection of hills and ravines. At last, after one crappy week, they arrived at the Bruinen River. At most places it was deep and quick, but they had been on the main Road for a while now, and it crossed the Bruinen at a shallow place- the only crossing for a long ways.

"Hurry!" Aragorn cried out. "After this crossing, we should be much safer."

"Knowing our luck, I wouldn't bet any money on it," Percy said.

"He's most likely right," chipped in Pippin.

"Just keep moving!"

Right as the group started to ford the river (with Percy bringing up the rear), the sound of galloping horses was heard, and out of the pines they had just came from arrived the Black Riders, all nine of them.

There was a staring game between the two groups for a few moments. The hobbits eyes widened, but Merry was the first one to break the silence with, "All nine of them." He gulped.

Aragron tightened his grip on his sword.

And Percy, the ever-valiant, uttered an honest, "Oh poop."

"Run," Aragorn told the hobbits, "we'll keep them distracted."

As the hobbits waded through the river, Percy hefted Riptide, his palm sweaty. He stepped back into the shallow water and felt a surge of strength as he entered his domain.

Aragorn and Percy stood side by side, but if all charged at once, they would be overtaken. One of the wraiths, a bit overzealous in wanting revenge on Percy charged, but Percy fluidly stepped aside and ducked under the extended blade. He slashed backwards as it ran past and managed to slash the wraith's robe; it retreated instantly.

On an unspoken note, three more charged them and Percy had to roll away from Aragorn to dodge the assault.

Now they were separated.

Two of the Ringwraiths went for Percy, but with them on horse, he was having a hard time getting at them. One thrust his cold silver blade, but Percy wasn't able to dodge in time. He gasped as the blade, cold as ice, grazed his side. Percy stepped back and stomped his back foot to the stony riverbed. At once, the ground shook and all nine wraiths tumbled off their horses which skittered away. Unfortunately, Aragorn also fell, and the wraith was drawing in on him. Percy tried to yell out, but it was too late; the wraith stabbed Aragorn in the side and he went down with a silent yell. In a second Percy had summoned a water trident and thrown it at the wraith which collapsed in a heap of tattered black rags.

Percy turned back to the other two wraiths to find that they had recovered and gotten up, but the other six had joined them and enclosed him in a semicircle. They closed in with blades extended, and they waited.

Then one lunged, the silver blade whistling towards Percy's heart.

He brought Riptide up and deflected the blade past his head, and spun around to slash a Ringwraith right across where its torso would be. It went down.

The blows kept on coming, and Percy couldn't keep blocking and dodging them. He was slowing down; soon one of the cold blades would find its mark.

Using what strength he had left, Percy summoned a hurricane to whip around him. The sunny skies darkened and the wind picked up all across the area. It started to rain and lightning, and thunder reverberated around the valley. On the other shore, the hobbits watched with wide eyes as their companion and friend took on the guise of a God showing it true power.

The Black Riders had no ability to defend themselves from such an onslaught; they were quickly overcome and pushed back.

In one last move, Percy summoned a monstrous wave to roar down the otherwise placid river. With a bit of spite and a _'ah heck, why not?' _attitude, Percy manipulated the water to take the form of roaring horses, tossing their manes as they galloped on to sweet oblivion, the wrath of the ocean unleashed. Percy shielded Aragorn, but the Black Riders were washed downstream, their mortal forms killed and smashed upon the rocks.

Unbeknownst to Percy and his group; the Black Riders' spirits were sent away at that moment, flying back to their master in Mordor with news of this powerful enemy.

* * *

After the hurricane, Percy wanted to pass out and sleep for a week, but he knew he couldn't do that. So he fell down into the water intending to sleep only for three days. By the grace of his father or something, the moment he fell into the water he was revitalized so that he could finish his task. He got up and hobbled over to Aragorn to inspect the wound.

He was grateful for what he saw. It looked like it was just an ordinary sword the wraith had used, so no side effects like Frodo's. _Thank you. For once, something not horrible._

Percy willed the water to flow through the wound and heal the affected area as much as he could, and much to his delight, it actually worked.

With a yell, Percy picked Aragorn up and started trudging towards the hobbits who came out to help as much as they could with the burden. He set him down as carefully as he could on the shore before he helped Sam bandage the wound.

Percy sighed. "How 'bout we call it a day and set up camp. I don't think I could walk another step, and Aragorn's out cold."

The hobbits all nodded, their eyes still wide.

They all talked while they set up camp in the forest nearby. Sam started a fire while Percy prepared the food. Everything went quiet soon enough, though, as the hobbits all seemed to say one thing.

"How did you do that?" asked Merry, as awestruck as the rest.

Percy grimaced. "You guys deserve an answer... but I'm too tired to give an answer, so I'll tell you later, maybe at Rivendell or something."

The hobbits were clearly disappointed with this, but they said nothing.

Looking at all the solemn faces around him, Percy decided he needed to lighten the mood.

"You know what? Screw rations. I'm going to eat as much as I want and there's nothing you can do about it," Percy declared.

Sam looked a bit peeved at this and Percy just laughed good-naturedly. "Don't worry; we'll be at Rivendell tomorrow. We have plenty of food to spare. Now, I bet I can eat more than all of you combined."

The hobbits laughed, their good moods returning. "You are going to regret that," Pippin claimed.

Together the group talked into the night before sleeping under the stars. High above, Tilion steered the Moon across the night sky, casting his silver beams on all below.

* * *

In Rivendell, Elrond Halfelven turned his gaze away from the western sky. A bright sunny day had turned into storm instantly, and changed back just as quickly.

"Bring me Glorfindel," he told an elf who walked by. She nodded and left.

_Strange things are happening these days,_ Elrond reflected. _I fear what this means._

The storm was strange. All around, the wind had picked up and a thunderstorm roared high above. In several minutes it had faded away. Such a storm had not struck Rivendell in many years.

Elrond heard footsteps on the wooden floor in the gazebo and turned around to find noble Glorfindel make his way up the steps to him.

"You called for me?" Glorfindel asked.

Elrond turned to the golden-haired elf. "Yes; I want you to ride out to the Fords of Bruinen the morning of tomorrow. I fear something evil has occurred."

Glorfindel bowed. "As you wish."

Elrond turned his gaze back to the sky again. _Strange times indeed._

* * *

Upon Taniquetil, Manwë conversed with Ulmo, Lord of the waters.

Manwë looked smugly at Ulmo. "What dost thou believe?"

Ulmo shrugged. "He is truly powerful; he took control of the whole river."

"And the air- he made it storm for miles around."

"What is your plan for him?"

Manwë smiled. "That remains to be seen."

* * *

In Mordor at Barad-dur, the spirit of Angmar, leader of the Ringwraiths, reported back to Sauron.

"He is powerful, my lord."

A dark voice boomed from the shadows. "How so?"

"He is skilled with his weapons, and he appears to have control over water."

The voice chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Interesting," he mused. "He will be of no concern to us soon enough, though."

"How will you dispose of him?"

Sauron's cruel laugh echoed through the chamber. "That remains to be seen."

* * *

**First of all, leave a review and tell me: Should this story stay close to the plot of the movie/books, or should it be more original? Also, leave some ideas or your thoughts on the story. Please leave a review, and have a good day.**

**~TheDragon12**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, here it is. Sorry for the long wait, but I had a lot of trouble coming up with the second half or so of this chapter. Hopefully you enjoy, and please leave a review!**

* * *

Aragorn, Percy and the hobbits were sprawled out under pine trees on soft heather when the sun began her journey west, turning the eastern sky pink. Earendil and the silmaril were clearly visible in the sky also, outshining everything else. It was a crisp mid-October morning, and a blanket of leaves covered the ground, even on the road. Thus it was that when a _clippity-clop_ reached the ears of the sleeping travelers, Percy awakened easily from his deep sleep and quietly sat up and pulled out Riptide. Three weeks ago, Percy could have slept through a nuclear explosion, but he had been changed by his adventure and the precautions they had to take.

He quickly woke up the others. The hobbits were loath to wake up, and Percy was thanked for his effort by a blanket in the face. Aragorn got up fluidly and gazed at Percy.

"What is it?"

"I heard a horse on the road; I'm going to check it out."

Sam got up. "The Black Riders are gone though, right?"

Aragorn, having missed this whole episode, looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"I sent them downstream in their own personal tsunami." Then he realized Aragorn probably wouldn't know what a tsunami was. "I created a big wave to wash them away." Too late he realized what he said.

Aragorn sat up. "You _created_ a wave to wash them away?"

Percy put his head in his hands and groaned. "I just said that, didn't I? Look, I'll tell you everything later or at Rivendell, but right now we need to get to the Road or we'll miss the rider."

Aragorn looked unsatisfied, but he abated. Then he said, "You're not going alone."

Percy paused. "Fair enough."

As they made their way down the hill to the road, Aragorn spoke.

"My wound is gone!"

Percy ducked under a branch. "Guilty."

Aragorn stopped completely and looked at Percy; he opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. A slight smile was on his face. "Sooner or later, I _will_ get you tell me everything."

"Probably," Percy agreed, "but not now."

At that point they reached the road. Puffy clouds floated overhead in the azure sky, and leaves fluttered about them when they saw the horse.

Percy was fairly sure that what he saw was good. A snow-white horse was making his way down the road; on its back was one of the most noble beings he had seen, much resembling the elves he had seen at Valmar. The elf (it was clearly an elf; there was no way to mistake it for any other being) was noble of face. On his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength. His cape was billowing behind him and his hood was thrown back, letting his golden hair fly in the slight breeze. It appeared as if a white light shone through him. There was a long, elegantly curved sword at his side. Seeing this, Percy put Riptide away and he and Aragorn trekked onto the road in front of the elf.

Percy obviously didn't recognize him, but Aragorn must have. His face broke into a smile and he called out, "Glorfindel! What news have you from Rivendell?"

The elf laughed; it was a rich, mellifluous laugh that seemed to brighten the day. He gracefully dismounted and made for Aragorn. When he got there the two embraced.

"Estel, it's been a long time."

_Estel?_ Percy thought. _My, Aragorn really has a lot of names._

Aragorn laughed. "It has been, but what brings you out here?"

The smile faded from Glorfindel's face. "When you had not arrived, Lord Elrond became nervous. He sent out riders in every direction. No news came, and he became more nervous. Then yesterday a storm hit. It arrived in a moment, but it was powerful. Thunder rocked Rivendell and all the surrounding land, and rain hit heavily; it ended as quickly as it had started. It seemed to be centered somewhere around the Fords of Bruinen.

Percy's eyes widened. "Really? I didn't think I got _that_ out of control."

The two looked at Percy.

Percy facepalmed. "Why, _why_, don't I ever think before I speak?"

Aragorn looked skeptical. "You created a storm?"

Percy shrugged. "You're surprised?"

"No. I guess not. Why don't I remember it?"

"You were unconscious with a hole in your side."

Glorfindel had been observing the exchange, but now he broke in. "I do not understand. How can he-" he pointed at Percy, "create a storm."

"Long story- tell you later; but what were you saying before?"

Glorfindel looked like he wanted to say something, but Aragorn stopped him. "I'm as confused as you are. Thrice today he has surprised me, but asking him to enlighten us will get us nowhere; that I've learned more than anything."

Percy laughed; Glorfindel nodded, but he didn't look happy about it. "After the storm, Lord Elrond sent me out to investigate what had happened. As fate would have it, I have both solved that mystery _and _found the missing group."

Percy coughed, "Overachiever."

"Aragorn looked at him strangely. "What?"

He laughed. "Nothing; it was a joke, but we should probably get back to the others." Then he groaned and muttered, "_Idiot!_" He looked up. "Glorfindel, are you any good at healing or medicine?"

The elf nodded. "Yes, I am highly skilled in the art of healing; why?"

"Frodo's not doing well at all."

* * *

They made their way back to the camp. As they neared, Percy saw Bill grazing for breakfast. Bill nickered his greeting.

"Mornin' Bill, how's the food around here? Is this some place I should recommend to my friends?"

Bill snorted.

Percy replied indignantly, "I do too have friends."

Aragorn put his hand on Percy's shoulder. "You're talking to the horse again."

"I am, aren't I?"

When the trio arrived back at the campsite, the three hobbits sprang to their feet; Frodo lay shivering by the burned-out fire.

"He's gotten worse!" Sam cried.

Aragorn and Glorfindel quickly knelt by Frodo.

"What happened?" Percy asked.

"A little after you left, he started shaking and shivering. He's as cold as ice!"

Glorfindel looked at Frodo. "Tell me everything."

They told him all about Weathertop and how Frodo was stabbed with the morgul dagger. By the end, Glorfindel was shaking his head.

"This is not good. How long ago was this?"

"Almost two weeks ago."

The elf cursed which surprised Percy. Then Glorfindel put his hand over the wound and went silent. He opened his eyes in a minute, looking wearier than before.

"There is nothing I can do- he is fading."

"Fading?" Pippin asked nervously.

"He's becoming a wraith; he doesn't have much time left."

"Could Elrond heal him?" Percy asked Glorfindel.

"I believe so, but it would have to be soon; it's a surprise he's not already gone."

"Then someone needs to take him to Rivendell _now_!"

There was a moment of silence between them all as they thought about this. Then Glorfindel looked at Percy. "_You_ must be the one to take him. You will ride with him on Asfaloth, my steed."

"Me?"

"You will not slow Asfaloth down, and you would be able to defend Frodo if it came to that."

"Well then we better hurry up."

Wasting no time at all, they went down to the road with Aragorn and Glorfindel carrying Frodo so that he wasn't jostled around too much. Frodo was placed on Asfaloth with Percy behind him.

"To Rivendell, Asfaloth," Percy murmured into the white horse's ear.

_Yes, my lord._

With one look back on his friends, Percy was sent at a gallop towards Rivendell.

* * *

If it wasn't for the whole 'life or death' situation, Percy might have enjoyed the ride. For a horse, Asfaloth was traveling incredibly fast, but that probably dealt with the fact that he was raised and trained by elves. The trees whizzed by, and the scenic cliffs around him cast shadows on the Road. Clouds lazily drifted by, unaware of the importance down below.

After about an hour of riding, Percy became aware of a commotion up ahead. Going against his better judgement, he slowed Asfaloth down to a walk and eventually a stop so that he could hear. Birds chirped in the trees and wind hissed through the forest, but nothing else.

Then everything went silent.

Percy noticed a flock of birds fly up into the air. A deer ran towards him off the road. He knew something was amiss.

That's when the first creature stepped into the open. It was revolting: it had gray skin and greasy hair with crude armor and a filthy sword. Percy realized that this must be one of the orcs he had heard Aragorn talk about a few times. _But he wouldn't be standing in front of me right now unless-_

Too late he realized what was going on. Four more stepped out, and Percy heard the sound of tramping metal boots on both sides of him. _Of course there would be orcs! The Black Riders would have had a backup plan to catch them. _Percy quickly spurred Asfaloth forward on the road. A troop of orcs were closing in on him, a little longer and they would have the road blocked.

"Asfaloth, faster!"

_Yes Lord_.

They were almost clear now; another few seconds and they would have passed up the orcs and be safely on their way to Rivendell...

Suddenly pain exploded in Percy's side and he toppled off Asfaloth. He lay on the ground, clutching his side where an arrow had skewered him below the ribcage. He looked back at Asfaloth, waiting twenty yards ahead. He shook his mane nervously.

Percy tried to get up, but with an arrow in his side, that was nearly impossible. If he took it out, he would lose too much blood; as it was he was a little dizzy already. Three more arrows thudded into the dust around him, but it wouldn't be too long until another found its mark.

Then the orcs caught up with him. They closed in on him, blades drawn. Percy slowly got to a knee, then a squat. Finally he stood up with an arrow shaft sticking out of him and looked at his attackers. Six orcs watched him with more closing in behind them. Archers were in the trees judging by the arrow that had just landed between his feet, right below his crotch.

"Okay, _not_ cool. Now I'm mad."

One of the orcs rushed forward, and Percy beheaded him with a simple swing of Riptide. He crinkled his nose at the black blood that spurted out, but then doubled over in pain as the arrow shifted around in his body from swinging his sword. Muttering a good amount of expletives, he lunged forward and stabbed another orc, caught at unawares. An orc cleaved downwards at his neck, but he rolled away, yelling out loud as the shaft snapped in two against the ground, further jarring the arrowhead and partial shaft in him. He swung behind him and felt the blade scrape against rough armor and burrow its way into soft flesh. However, when he turned around, Riptide got caught in the jagged breastplate and was torn from his grip.

Now standing weaponless, he watched two orcs charge him. He ducked under the first slash, stood up suddenly and punched the orc square in the nose; it went down unconscious. He stared at his scraped and bleeding fist in wonder. "Holy crap."

The second orc stabbed at him, but with rapid reflexes he pushed put his hand against the flat of the blade coming towards him and pushed it away. He picked up the scimitar from a fallen orc and stabbed the one in front of him before finishing the unconscious one with the broken nose on the ground. Percy retrieved Riptide from the fallen orc.

He was tired, bleeding, in pain, and in an overall bad mood. "Is it too much to ask for a little peace for once?" he yelled out. Not waiting for any more to attack him, he stabbed Riptide into the ground and watched with some satisfaction as the orcs toppled on top of each other as the ground beneath their feet shook. Feeling the energy leave him, he almost collapsed right there which would mean certain death, but the ring on his finger that Manwë had given him glowed in a bright blue light that enveloped Percy, giving him the strength to continue. With a silent word of thanks, he hobbled back to Asfaloth.

As he moved Asfaloth to a gallop, he heard a whistle in the air and was pushed forward onto Frodo as a second orc arrow miraculously found its mark in his back left shoulder. Almost blacking out from pain, he sat up and yelled at the sky one for time, for good measure, venting his frustration and pain with one solid curse. Asfaloth galloped away from the battle scene with Frodo and Percy on his back. Percy was slumped over and leaning on Frodo while still holding Riptide in his hand; black rivulets of steaming blood rolled off the celestial bronze blade. Behind them orcs scattered throughout the woods around; orc corpses were strewn about the road.

The remainder of the ride was a blur to Percy. He was half-unconscious the whole time, and losing a lot of blood. Percy knew that he was getting close to the point of no return. A little longer and they emerged on top of a cliff with a path down into a great valley. Percy could hear many waterfalls, and when he looked down he saw a collection of fair buildings, forming a beautiful settlement at the foot of the opposite cliff.

He was somewhat aware of Asfaloth making his way down the cliffside on the path. When they got to the bottom he crossed a narrow stone bridge that arched slightly over the roaring waters far below. He was half-tempted to throw himself over the side into the river for healing, but he figured that landing headfirst on a stone could be considered hazardous to his health.

They were surrounded by fair buildings. Statues of elven warriors gazed down at him and he was aware of people making their way towards him. An elf lowered Frodo from the saddle and Percy managed to wheeze out, "Morgul blade wound; bring him to Elrond." Then he himself lost consciousness and fell towards the ground, his last sight bringing him the image of Asfaloth's white hide stained crimson.

* * *

Aragorn and Glorfindel hustled along the three hobbits as best as they could. It was midday by now, and they had to move fast if they wanted to reach Rivendell by nightfall.

Aragorn was looking forward to going back to Rivendell. It had been a long time and he missed it, especially some of the people there... He had been brought to Rivendell by his mother and raised there.

He was broken out of his thinking when Pippin asked, "What's that up ahead?"

Glorfindel turned his gaze up ahead. "Something is strewn about the road."

"Come to think about it, I haven't seen or heard any animals in a while now," Merry said.

"Those look like bodies," Sam remarked.

"Blood has been spilled," Glorfindel proclaimed.

They all stopped on accord, then started running ahead on an unspoken note. They were a bit dismayed by what they saw. Five orc bodies, well, what was left of them, were laying on the road.

Pippin turned to Aragorn. "Do you think Frodo and Percy are okay?" he asked.

Aragorn didn't answer; instead he knelt down and searched; he tried to piece together what had happened. He saw hoofprints, presumably from Asfaloth.

"Glorfindel; search the trees! Look for signs of orcs," Aragorn said. Without waiting, he got back down.

At one point the hoofprints got lighter, as if someone fell or got off Asfaloth. At that spot he saw that the dirt was all ruffled; there was a lot of crimson blood. But none of the heavy boot prints from orcs, just lighter footprints with the interesting treadmarks that Aragorn noticed Percy left from his strange shoes. He breathed a sigh of relief; so Percy hadn't died there, but he was wounded. He looked back at Glorfindel on the side of the road.

"Glorfindel, what did you find?" he asked.

Glorfindel called back, "The ground is disturbed; many orcs were here.

Aragorn thought about that. _There were probably archers hidden in the trees. Presumably, Percy was shot and fell off Asfaloth here._ He followed Percy's footprints backwards. Lying there was a headless body and a head to go with it along with another body. Black blood stained the ground along with some red blood, but not enough to be from a new wound. _He made his way back to face the orcs and dispatched these two fairly easily. _There were more bootprints here, and some strange marks in the dirt next to them, like someone had fallen or rolled. There was a slash in the ground next to it along with another orc. A broken arrow was lying in the dirt with a lot of scarlet blood around it. _An orc swung at Percy, but he rolled back, breaking the arrow in him in the process._ Aragorn winced; that would have been painful and would result in the loss of much blood. He looked back at the orc. It's chestplate was all cut up, different from the usual clean cut of a sword. _He swung and killed the orc, but his sword got stuck in this orc's chestplate, and was most likely torn from his grip, judging on how fast he swings. Without a sword he- _Aragorn smiled, _punched the next orc in the face. _He smiled again, looking at the orc in front of him with a squashed nose and a bruised face. Lying in the ground next to that orc and the last corpse was an orc scimitar with black blood smothered over the blade. _He picked up an orc's sword and finished off the last orcs. _Aragorn looked back at the road. Footprints led back up the road where there was many scuffles in the road with many hoofprints; the prints were deep and led away towards Rivendell on the road with blood trailing behind them.

Aragorn ran a hand through his hair. Percy was likely alive, unless he bled out. Frodo was hopefully okay.

"Strider, what did you find?" asked Pippin.

He told them. "Frodo and Percy look to be alive, but we're going to have to hurry to Rivendell. Who knows what we'll find."

* * *

Percy awoke and found himself in a bed. He first thought that he had slept late in his bed at Camp Half-blood, but the ceiling looked different. It was flat, and the dark beams were richly carved. He The sun shone forth through the windows in the room. The whole back of the room was a balcony looking over the surrounding area. He stayed in bed for a bit, taking everything in. _So I got wounded_ _again. Incredible; simply incredible. _One small seed of comfort was that he had gotten Frodo safely to Rivendell. _Okay, so I'm not a _complete_ failure. _Oh, and the bed was exceedingly comfortable. _I need to get me one of these._

Percy breathed deeply; he smiled as he breathed out. He felt the same peace he had felt in Valinor. The feeling was incredible. He swung his feet out of bed and sat on the edge. He was still in his jeans which were absolutely filthy by now, but he was shirtless, his Camp Half-blood shirt gone. That saddened Percy a bit, but something about the place made it impossible to stay upset.

He made his way to the balcony at the back of the room. He leaned on the ornately carved railing and started shaking his head.

"Incredible," he breathed. He was looking over a great valley with sharp cliffs on both sides. Many smaller rivers (presumably from all the waterfalls he heard in the background) joined together into one great river that cut through the valley. Tall trees covered the cliffs. Looking down, he saw part of Rivendell. All the buildings were built with nature in mind. There were many balconies. The buildings consisted of fair stone and ornate wood. Overall, the settlement was incredible.

He realized that it was late afternoon. A little to his right the sun was slowly sinking below the trees and cliffs, but she still cast her golden beams on Rivendell.

Percy stayed there for a few more minutes, just taking in everything. A small finch flew to the railing and stared at him. Slowly it jumped to his hand and started pecking at his hand curiously. He smiled; a moment later the bird flew away, singing its song.

Then Percy realized something: he was healed. Sure, his back and side were a little sore, but they didn't openly hurt and they were completely healed- only faint scars were left.

He went back to the bed and sat down, but now there was a large, old-fashioned package on the bed, something that hadn't been there before. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he carefully opened the package and gasped.

Laying in front of him was a chainmail shirt. The hauberk consisted of extremely fine and delicate blue links so tightly interwoven that Percy was sure it nigh impenetrable. Percy wasn't sure what metal was used to make this sea-blue shirt, but what he was sure of was that it was made by the gods; well, maybe the cyclopes. It was beautiful. He picked up the hauberk to put it on and a note fluttered to the floor. He picked it up and read it; it had only three things on it:

'You'll need this.'

'P.S. More on the way.'

'P.P.S. Annabeth misses you.'

Percy smiled sadly. It had been a long time since he'd seen Annabeth. He wasn't sure if the gods had told her exactly where he was, but probably not. They must have told her that he was on a quest though. He read the note again. _Wait, more on the way?_ _So am I like, getting more stuff? 'Because if I am, I'm not gonna argue._

He turned around; on the door hung an outfit supplied be his hosts. There was a pair of the black trousers that Percy figured most men wore in this time period. There was also a pair of high traveling boots that would cover most of his shins. When he got to the tunic he laughed and shook his head. It was an ocean blue tunic with a silver trident sewn into each of the sleeves at the forearm. The tunic extended down almost to his knees; there were waves designs bordering the edge of it. Along with it was a simple necklace with a small seashell attached to it.

"Thanks guys," Percy said looking up. "I'll be incredibly inconspicuous now," but he put it on nonetheless. He had to admit it was really nice; he loved it already, as if a part of his normal life had been returned to him here in Middle Earth.

He changed into his new clothes, making sure to hide his chainmail shirt below his tunic and to put on the necklace. Then he made his way out of his room to explore Rivendell.

* * *

Percy was sitting on a stone bench in one of the gardens overlooking the river. He had been wandering around in a daze for the past few hours, trying to take in all that he was seeing. He hadn't met many people in that time, but he had seen his fair share of elves, and the few that he talked to had seemed nice enough, although they were aloof and detached it seemed.

He had spotted this garden and made his way over to look at the river. He'd been at the garden for almost an hour now and the sun was beginning to set. The silver glow of the moon beyond the horizon was starting to become visible, and the third silmaril was glowing high in the sky, away from the Moon's jealous rays. He stared at it in wonder; he had seen it almost every dusk and dawn, yet he never got sick of staring at it. He was shaken out of his thoughts when someone behind him spoke.

"It is quite beautiful, isn't it?"

He experienced a total 'deja vu' moment right there, thinking back to Valinor. He stood up and turned around and found himself staring face-to-face with an elf. He coughed and muttered a 'sorry' as he stepped back. Like all elves, this one had a seemingly timeless face, except that this elf seemed a tad bit more aged than most other elves, plus this elf was very tall, taller than most. His grey eyes, though, reflected an entirely different story. They reflected milennia of toil and experience. They were deep and filled with wisdom. They showed many emotions, but above all, they showed sorrow.

Percy opened his mouth to respond, but he forgot. He stood there, trying to form words before he managed to say, "Uh, sorry, what?"

The elf smiled. He gestured with his arm at the surroundings. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it? I saw you sitting here admiring it. In fact, I saw you sitting here for quite a long time."

Percy nodded. "Yeah, I've been looking around for a long time, but this place..." he shrugged, "It got to me. I've felt something weird when I got to here, but I didn't want to leave."

The elf turned his head, "You've been looking at the sky for fifteen minutes."

"Well, that silmaril's a real eye-catcher."

He had a surprised expression on his face. "You know of the silmarils?"

Percy nodded. "Yeah, I was told of them recently, and all the pain they caused."

The elf's face turned grave. "Pain indeed; those were dark days, Master Jackson."

"You were there?"

"I was. A great deal of the conflict happened before I was born, but I was there when it ended. I was there at the end of the First Age, when Morgoth was cast down in front of the light and power of the West. I was there at the end of the Second Age when Sauron was cast down by Elendil and Gil-Galad, and I intend to bring about the end of the Third Age where Sauron will be cast down for the last time and Barad-dur leveled."

Percy witnessed the elf in front of him grow taller. He seemed to be surrounded by a white aura and he shone with an ethereal glow. On his left hand, a bright star appeared on his ring finger and Percy saw in his eyes a fire. He felt the same power he had in Valinor, and he fell to his knees, awestruck. The elf in front of him looked much like Manwë now, and Percy averted his gaze.

Then everything faded, and the elf reverted back to his original self, diminished and weary. Percy shakily stood up. "Who- who are you?"

"I am Elrond."

"Wha-you-." Then he remembered that Elrond was the one who could heal Frodo, and he started rattling off questions about Frodo and the rest, machine gun style. Annabeth had told him before that he had a big mouth, and, well, he was pretty sure she was right.

Elrond held up his hand. "Frodo is well, though it was too close for comfort. I worked late into the night, and I finally found and extracted the cause- a splinter of the knife that had almost made its way to his heart. Another few hours and he would have been too far gone. It is a miracle that he had survived those two weeks to begin with."

Percy felt like falling to the ground at the relief he felt. It was like a weight (a drakon, or maybe a hellhound, perhaps?) had been lifted off his chest. Then he was struck by a wave of shame. He had completely forgotten about him, and he'd been awake for hours. He didn't even stop to think if his friend had been okay.

Elrond seemed to know his thoughts, as he said, "Do not feel ashamed. Rivendell will make you forget all your troubles and woe- sadness does not dwell here.

Percy felt a little better, but he was still a bit disturbed. He looked up at Elrond and recalled what had happened moments before. Elrond had been drawn up and filled with power. He had a feeling that he had witnessed what elves are supposed to look like, or how they are in Valinor. But something seemed... amiss.

"Lord Elrond, what was on your hand?"

Elrond inclined his head, as if he had set a trial for Percy and was awaiting completion.

"On your left hand a star appeared. It seemed as if a bright star had come to rest there."

Elrond had previously turned away to gaze through the night sky at the valley, but at that he turned his head so that Percy could only see his profile.

_Eyebrows of doom_ Percy concluded.

Elrond stared at Percy, which was slightly unnerving. Then he smiled and waved his right hand over his left. At once, a gold ring appeared; a rich sapphire was the centerpiece of the golden band. "This is Vilya," Elrond spoke, "mightiest of the three rings given to the elves."

"_You_ are the wielder of one of the elven Rings? How come nobody knows?"

He laughed. "Sauron greatly desires the elven rings. The Nine he has again; the Seven are all accounted for; but the Three- the Three he doesn't know much about. He knows not their wielders, their power, or their locations. It frightens him, and he would do much to find out. Therefore, it is a greatly concealed secret who the bearers are. However, I do not believe _I_ am the only one here with secrets," he finished while searching deep into Percy's eyes; Percy looked away.

"Explain to me; how were you able to openly face the Nine Nazgul? How did you create the flood at the Bruinen and the storm?

Percy smiled and he held his arms out at his sides. "I'm different. Let's leave it at that."

"Undoubtedly. But unless I am highly mistaken, which I rarely am, you are a young human."

"Half."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm half human."

Elrond's eyebrows angled and his forehead creased. Then something almost like a smile came to his face. "So that is the game you're going to play, Master Perseus?"

Percy grinned in return. "With all due respect, that's the way it's gotta be."

The two stared at each other, both trying to keep a serious composure (Percy being the worse of the two at it), until Elrond spoke. "You forget one thing."

"And that would be-?"

"You saw Vilya on my hand. Unless you are a skilled sorcerer or very powerful in magic, you are receiving help or power from someone who is. Someone in the West perhaps?"

Percy mouth fell open in disbelief; Elrond had guessed far too easily. "Okay, not fair." Then he paused. "Was I that obvious?"

Elrond laughed. "No; you are powerful- not a normal human, although I have yet to figure out the 'half human bit. You are obviously not normal, and when you saw Vilya and pierced the shroud of magic surrounding it, I knew you were sent by someone greatly powerful, and you are not evil. Therefore the Valar sent help as they did thousands of years ago, mayhaps a bit more inconspicuous this time."

"So now you know everything. Wonderful, but what do I do now?"

"You relax in Rivendell, and you heal. You will be here for a long while. When the time comes for a Company to depart to destroy the Ring, you will go with them. I feel that you have a great role to play in the saving of Middle Earth ere the end."

Percy didn't know what Elrond meant with the whole 'departing' thing. He knew about the Ring, but he didn't know anything past that. "What?"

Elrond waved his hand. "Do not mind that, just enjoy your stay, though you might want to talk to Gandalf."

"Gandalf is here?" Percy asked remembering Manwë's advice.

"He is indeed. Good night Master Perseus; I do hope that the Valar have chosen well. It has been many years since I felt any hope at all, but your arrival heartens me."

At that, Elrond walked away, his tunic rustling up dry leaves scattered about the stone floor. Percy leaned on the carved stone railing around the garden and beheld the Hidden Valley. Silver light shone down upon it, and a thousand stars glittered in the heavens. He listened to the roar of the waterfalls, and the soothing gurgle of the river. He smiled; _This is home._

* * *

**There you have it. Percy's starting to become more at home in Middle Earth. Please tell me what you would like to see (erm, read) in a review or a PM. Thanks for reading, and have a good day!**

**~TheDragon12**


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